


The Oldest Profession

by DoWeHaveADeal (SenseAndSilence)



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV), The Legend of Barney Thomson (2015)
Genre: Bullying, F/M, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-10
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-05-04 23:28:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14604084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SenseAndSilence/pseuds/DoWeHaveADeal
Summary: Belle is a prostitute in desperate need of a barber. Barney is a barber in desperate need.





	1. First

_Before the murders_

It was a slow Thursday when she first made her way into his life. Barney was sitting in his _new chair_ next to the bins, the furthest away from the windows, soaking in ripe humiliation and getting physically tired from the deep-seated sadness that was eating at his chest. He didn't deserve to be treated like this. Not a single customer had so much as looked at him in hours, some of them going so far as to actively avoid eye-contact.

Barney snorted bitterly.

Now that Chris had demoted him to this existence, it would only be weeks until he lost his job at Henderson's entirely. Wullie's accusations regarding Barney's job performance tended to be self-fullfilling, just as a car lost its value once you let it rot in your garage.

The sound of the doorbell woke Barney from his near-slumber.

Half-heartedly looking up from his slouched position in the chair, he raised a suprised eyebrow when he saw the figure in the door. It was a woman. Not just any woman, either, a tiny voice in Barney's head corrected him involuntarily, but a stunning example of the species. She was small, charmingly tiny even, but in comparison to her stature, her legs seemed to go on for days, an effect that was probably helped along by the ridiculously high, red pumps she was wearing.

Her legs paled in comparison to what lay above, however. The criminally tight blue dress she wore hugged the curve of her hips, her slim waist accentuating firm breasts that were designed to make men salivate at her feet. Not only did she have a figure like an hourglass but all this was rounded of with porcelain skin, immoderately blue eyes and long, chestnut-coloured hair that framed her angelic face in warm waves of autumn.

Instantly, Barney imagined her naked.

Annoyed by his own horniness, he mentally slapped himself and pushed his instinctive thoughts away. The men in the shop were all leering at her, their thoughts obviously straying towards the dirty. One of them had even whistled not-so-silently and Barney wrinkled his nose, revolteded at their base behaviour.

She was sure to be one of Chris' many sexcapades anyway, he thought in annoyance. God only knew what women like her found in men like Chris.

Barney himself had certainly not had the fortune of attracting much female attention during his humble existence. The last time he'd seen a women naked, he'd been fifteen and Laura Murray had taken pity on him in a toilet stall at the local cinema. Over the years, Barney's imagination had added some enhancements to the scene and if he had been asked about it today, he'd have been reasonably certain that he wasn't a fifty year-old virgin.

Not feeling enthusiastic about having to watch Chris talk his way into her bed, Barney turned his face away from the entry once more and stared into the mirror before him. In contrast to the angel he'd just seen, the man that met his gaze looked old, tired and bitter. He sighed grimly.

"Can I help you, Ms?", Chris Porter asked with thinly veiled flirtation, and Barney's head snapped back towards the young woman in the door. It seemed he had been mistaken.

"Uhm." She hesitated for a second, then spoke up, "Yes. I'd like a haircut, please. Just the ends. Just trimming them down a bit, I mean." She seemed slightly nervous.

Chris gave her a friendly-sounding little laugh that still somehow managed to be condescending. Barney rolled his eyes. He hated the prick.

"Sweetie", Chris addressed her, still grinning, "This is a barber's shop for men. You might want go check out the hairdresser down the street and to the right. That place definitely serves pretty women like you."

The crudeness of the compliment made Barney simoultaneously want to vomit and vanish into the floor. Instead, he just pulled a disgusted face and sank deeper into his chair.

The girl however seemed to straighten up in her heels, seemingly becoming more confident.

"I know that," she said, sounding determined, "I usually go there but it's closed for some reason and I'd really like a trim today. The prices are ridiculous, too... Yours seem much more reasonable."

"Yeah," Chris told her, his face and body language now expressing mock impatience, as if he was talking to a child. "That's because this is a MEN'S SHOP."

Although her confidence deflated at his tone, the woman still wasn't quite ready to give up. "But that doesn't make sense if it's the same type of work," she complained. "I really don't want anything spectacular and I'm sure you are capable of trimming edges?"

She had thrown the last sentence at Chris with a barely perceivable edge of sarcasm, phrasing it as a question. The customers were all involved by now, their eyes focused on the scene before them and Barney smirked. He could see Chris lose the last remnants of his flirtatious air, watching as he irritatedly put his hands on his hips instead. He was definitely concerned about losing face, Barney thought.

"Look," Chris began, forced patience in his every word, "I'd really like to help you but we are packed today, alright?" Barney rolled his eyes at the obvious lie while Chris motioned at the three customers behind him. "No seat right now, and there is more coming, okay?"

He passed the woman to _politely_ hold the door open for her. "Maybe try the hairdresser's tomorrow."

The girl hadn't moved an inch. Instead, she turned towards Barney.

"What about you?" she asked. "You look free."

Surprised at being noticed, he straightened in his seat and nodded, clearing his throat.

"I am," he answered truthfully, earning himself a mean look from Chris who was still standing by the open door like a lost butler.

"Can you cut my hair?" the girl asked with a hopeful voice, sensing that she had found an ally.

"I can," Barney confirmed calmly, having decided that he liked the pissed off look on Chris' face.

"Alright," she said and moved across the room as Barney got up and turned the seat towards her, waving her into it. "Why didn't you say that then?"

Barney paused for a moment, regarding his hand on the back of the chair. 

I'm a coward, he thought.

"I like the quiet," he answered, turning her towards the mirror.

"Oh."

Smiling, she angled herself in the chair so that he could hide her chest - that he had definitely barely looked at - by covering her with the protective dark cape. 

Trying not to look at her face, he ran a curious hand through her hair to untangle it. It was as soft as it looked. Barney gently laid his hands on her shoulders and she looked up to meet his gaze in the mirror.

"Would you like me to cut it straight or with a curve?" he asked, trying to act like his normal brisk self, while once more collecting her hair in his hands to lay it out before him.

Accidently, his hands grazed the back of her neck, and he suddenly felt unsettled. The small and normally insignificant touch seemed ghastly impudent to him. Her skin was even softer than her hair and touching it made an uncontrollable warmth spread through his body.

"With a curve, please."

When he met her blue eyes again, Barney felt a tremor run through him and she herself had a tinge to her cheeks, a blush that Barney could only explain by assuming that he was making her uncomfortable.

He bowed his head to fumble for the scissors in his breast pocket and used that opportunity to take a deep and silent breath. It was time to get a grip, really, he told himself. He was a professional after all. When Barney looked up next, scissors and comb ready in his hands, there was nothing but concentration on his face. The barber reached out with a steady hand to softly lift his customer's chin and began to cut her hair.

This professionalism, unfortunately, wasn't shared by the other men in the room. After about two minutes into his work, Barney heard Chris pipe up behind him, his tone conciliatory.

"So what's your name then, sweetheart?", he asked.

The woman startled out of their companionable silence.

"It's Belle," she answered quietly, as if she was considering Barney's preference for silence. Belle, he thought as he concentrated on carefully trimming another strand of her hair, how very fitting.

"Like in Beauty and the Beast, ey?" Chris called out, his grin wide and boyish, "Now see, sweetheart, that explains your choice of a barber!"

The men laughed, hands slapping armrests in uncontainable amusement. Trying not to show them that they had hurt him with the jab, Barney sighed. Beneath him, he could feel Belle shuffle uncomfortably in her seat.

"Please hold still," he reminded her, laying a settling hand on her shoulder.

"Even your hair fits the part, Barney!" Chris continued unperturbed. "That mess would definitely look like an unkempt mane if you didn't glue it back down every morning."

The laughter in the room intensified and Barney stilled in grim anger, failing to think of a fitting comeback. Belle was looking at him now, her eyes glowing with something he couldn't quite put his finger on.

Chris had abandoned his armrest-slapping customer and was making his way over to where Barney stood near the curtain.

"Is that why you refuse to cut it, are you cursed Barney? Would it grow back during the night, like?"

With this, Chris took a strand of his hair and pulled, making Barney step backwards and let out a squeaking sound that he instantly regretted, his pride hurting more than his scalp.

Turning around to give Chris a piece of his mind, Barney heard another voice behind him before he could open his mouth.

"STOP THAT!" Belle shouted in outrage, silence forgotten. "What are you, a child? Do you think mocking people's appearances is fun? I mean, what's wrong with you?"

She had turned around in her chair and was staring Chris down like a teacher disciplining her student. The other barber looked taken aback. Obviously, he either had not expected her to take offense at his behaviour or hadn't expected her to be so vocal about it. Barney guessed the former as Chris often resorted to cocky behaviour when trying to impress women.

Chris tried to put on a disarming smile.

"Oh, don't worry love, it's all fun and games," he said, raising his hands in a shrug. He looked at Barney challengingly. "Isn't it Barney?"

Grudgingly, Barney nodded. Playing along was the only way he'd get out of this with his pride at least half-way intact.

"See, Beauty," Chris said triumphantly and gave Belle an unwelcome wink "No need to worry about the old man."

Belle didn't say anything, but turned around in her chair to face the mirror once more, her silence speaking for her.

Chris didn't listen, apparently.

"No, I mean it," he assured her, stepping closer. Barney could feel himself grip the scissors more tightly in his hand. Chris was now resting one arm on the back of the girl's chair.

"I'm not normally this... beastly, you know," Barney heard Chris whisper much too close to her ear. "It's just when my princess comes along that I can't control myself."

Barney could feel bile in the back of his throat.

Belle's eyes were the color of ice now, her voice cutting. "I'm not your princess," she told him coldly, her voice sharp like broken glass. "I'm a prostitute."

The room fell silent. If Barney hadn't been so practiced in hiding his reactions, he'd have made a shocked sound. It was hard to believe that this young woman... well, you could hear a pin drop. Chris just stared at her in momentary confusion, her shamelessness confounding him.

"Now, normally that would probably delight you but unfortunately for you," Belle said and looked her victim right in the eyes, her tone victorious, "I don't do bestiality."

Chris blinked dimly.

"So, please," Belle finished. "Move the fuck away from me."

Moving like a man that had been kicked into his private parts, Chris slowly took his arm away from Belle's chair and walked back towards his open-mouthed customer.

Even Wullie was speechless.

Not bothering to hide the smile on his face, Barney stepped up to where Chris had just been, clearing his throat and taking up his work again like nothing had happened.

No one said another word and by the time he had finished trimming Belle's hair and she'd left the shop, tipping him much too generously for such a simple procedure, the shop was still eerily quiet.

Just as Barney liked it.


	2. Second

_During the murders_

It was after a busy Sunday afternoon that he met her for a second time. After Wullie’s death, Mr. Henderson senior had tried to help them out in the shop, but his advanced age kept him from helping as much as he wanted. He would often have to leave early because he was exhausted which meant that Barney and Chris effectively had to run the business on their own. They struggled to serve the army of murder-sightseeing customers that flooded their shop to say that they too had gotten a haircut at the chopped-up guy's place. All this new work was certainly welcome but it was also unbelievably tiring and Barney’s day had only gotten worse once Charlie had shown up. Because once Charlie haf shown up, his secrets hadn’t been secret any longer and then…

Then he’d killed Chris.

It was an accident, he thought as he dragged the wrapped body into the trunk of his car, breathing heavily from the weight. Distraught, he noticed that even his inner monologue sounded panicked. It really was an accident, though! He wouldn’t lie, he had wished for Chris' death now and again but he had never been serious about it! It wasn't as if he had planned this, Barney thought, mentally imagining himself under the bright fluorescent lights of an interrogation cell. Was he sad now that Chris was dead? Well… no. But did that mean he was happy about it? Of course not! How could he be? Not considering the obvious human, well... tragedy, Chris was just another body to get rid of, just another body that would lead to Barney rotting in prison. He pushed a limp foot into the trunk with an almost angry noise of exertion, slamming the lid closed and wiping the sweat off his forehead with a red-sleeved arm. Trying to keep his hands from shaking against his will, he locked the car. This, he decided, was the worst day of his life.

Fuck.

He needed to talk to his mother, Barney told himself and turned around to lock up the shop. The moment he reached the door, however, a hand suddenly fell down on his shoulder.

“Arg!” he screamed, jumping and hurling around to face his attacker.

Big blue eyes stared at him in shock as Belle’s hand froze in mid air. The smile on her face changed to an expression of surprise and she quickly stepped backwards to give him some space.

“I-I’m sorry,” she stammered, unsettled by his reaction. “I didn’t want to scare you.”

He remembered her instantly, how could he not, and cursed himself for overreacting like this. He'd probably scared her now. Trying to play down his reaction, Barney pulled his face into a grimace of casual surprise.

“Ooohh” he exclaimed, pointing an unsteady finger at her, "Oh, it's Belle isn't it. Yes." He nodded to himself, directly afterwards starting to shake his head in denial and making an appeasing gesture with his hands. “Oh. No, no. Y-you didn’t scare me, I was just in my head, is all. You didn’t scare me at all.” His voice sounded very high-pitched.

To his surprise, Belle's face seemed to lit up when he mentioned her name, her expression thankful. But just when she wanted to compliment him on his good memory, Barney laughed nervously, shrugging to no-one in particular, and continued talking. “I mean, there is no reason for me to be scared of anything, right? No reason at all.”

Fiddling with the rim of her top, Belle looked unsure. Her eyes met his with a mixture of compassion and doubt.

“Alright,” she said slowly. Taking care to break through his rant, she decided to clarify her position, “It’s just that if I had scared you, I’d be sorry.”

“Right.”

Barney nodded stupidly, just continuing to stare at her. When the silence between them became too much to handle, Belle took matters into her own hands and dared to step up unto the sidewalk again.

“I was wondering if I could get another haircut."

“A haircut?” Barney asked surprised, as if he wasn't standing in front of a barber's shop and as if she had just demanded something wildly unexpected from him.

“Yes, you know, just the ends, like last time,” she added, hoping to explain the matter.

Barney nodded again, his face showing a wide range of different emotions.

“Right, right, yes…” he grimaced, “Of course, normally you could, o-of course, it’s just that we… w-we are closed, right now." He pointed both of his hands towards the floor as if to indicate something to her. "Now. In fact,” he nodded, his eyebrows nodding with him, “S-So, so maybe tomorrow?”

Belle frowned.

“But it's Saturday, Barney, the shop's closed tomorrow, isn't it?” she asked him gently and he gulped audibly.

Pressing his eyes shut, he nodded for the hundredth time, looking sick. "Yes, yes," he said, slower now, "I quite understand."

Belle was growing increasingly worried about him.

"Barney, are you sure you’re okay?” she asked, carefully taking another step towards him.

Barney paused, his eyes searching hers in desperation, his fingers white around the keys he was still holding. Then he shook his head, looking like a lost child.

“I think I feel a bit weird, is all,” he said, suddenly feeling tired and dizzy from it all. Swooning on his feet, Barney blinked a few times to gain back his bearings, holding his arms out to the side for balance.

“Oh, come here,” Belle said chidingly, taking him by the hand like a little boy and wordlessly leading him inside the shop. Once they had made it inside, she sat him down on the bench normally reserved for waiting customers and took the keys from his now feeble hands, locking the door.

Once Belle had made sure to pull the red shutters closed, she sat next to him again, bumping his broad, heavily-clothed shoulder with her smaller, naked one.

If Barney hadn't been so unsettled, he would have noticed how unusually close she was to him and he would have questioned her intentions. In his experience, women didn't get close to him unless they needed something from him. But alas, Barney indeed felt rather unsettled and therefore the thought didn't occur to him. In fact, when he had calmed down enough to notice the warmth of her body beside his and his brain was just about to supply him with a report about their physical positions, Belle decided to unsettle him again.

“It’s probably because of your murdered colleague, huh?” she asked inquisitively, choosing this moment to also place her hand on the inside of his knee.

As if he’d suddenly choked on air, Barney began to cough uncontrollably and Belle hurried over to helpfully pat his back.

“What?” Barney croaked, his voice a high squeak. His brain had successfully told him that she was touching his knee and suddenly he was violently aware of her body next to his. _She is touching my knee_ , he thought, his heart hammering in his chest,  _She is touching my knee and she knows I killed Chris._

Would he have to kill her, Barney asked himself, immediately discarding the thought for the disgusting impossibility that it was. He could never harm Belle. She was beautiful and innocent, entirely not at fault for his depraved killing-spree and... and her hand was squeezing the flesh of his lower thigh.

Maybe she wanted money, Barney thought.

Maybe that was why she was touching him. The longer he contemplated this, the more did the idea make sense to him. Why would she be so nice to him, so comforting, if she wanted to hand him over to the police. Surely, she just wanted some well-earned money for her silence. And he would give it to her, he thought feverishly. Hell, Barney was pretty sure that he'd give Belle anything she asked for even if she didn't have anything on him.

Wait.

If she had seen him load Chris into the trunk, if this was about money, why would she lock herself inside the shop with a serial killer. Why not wait outside where it was safer? Had she called the police already? Was she being nice to him so that he'd stay here until the coppers arrived?

“Your dead coworker?” Belle tried to jog his memory, "I heard about the murder, you know. What happened to Wullie."

Barney just stared at her, his face locked in concentration. _She doesn't know,_  he thought, relief spreading through his body like a tidal wave, _She doesn't know I killed Chris and she is touching me_.

“It’s terrible, really. I can’t imagine how you must be feeling.” Her second hand began to soothingly rub his back. “No wonder that you are a bit skittish, God knows I would be if something like that happened so close to me.”

At her words, Barney managed to calm down a bit, nodding in agreement.

“Yes,” he said simply, his voice nervous but factual. “The whole thing has me a bit stressed, I guess.”

“As I said, that’s entirely understandable,” she repeated, her tone sweet. Suddenly, Belle was touching his head, her fingers smoothing down his hair. For the first time since she had appeared in front of the shop, Barney noticed her body, really took note of it, and a little burst of arousal shot up his spine because she was beautiful and her hand was sliding down his neck. This beautiful woman was comforting him and he didn’t know what the fuck was going on.

“I’m just happy that the killer didn’t get you, hm?” Belle said with a soft smile that gave her a tiny dimple, her thumb caressing his cheek, her voice becoming secretive, “Although I wish he’d killed that younger guy you work with, I mean what a _dick_.”

Barney made a desperate wheezing sound, coughed, then giggled hysterically, then nodded and coughed some more. Trying to compose himself and lacking better options, he decided to press forward.

“You wanted a haircut?” he asked Belle, sitting up on the bench and pulling on the end of his red barber’s jacket to straighten it out.

Blinking and confused by the sudden change of topic, it took Belle a second to answer his question. Her hand left his hair and Barney mourned it immediately.

“Yes, just the ends, you know. But if it’s a bad time, I could come back on Monday...”

Quietly, Barney contemplated the two nights it would take for Monday to arrive. He could easily be in prison by then, he thought grimly, standing up to look at Belle. And if, after all, she knew about Chris and had called the police to get him, there was no reason not to make himself useful to her while they waited.

Because Barney _wanted_  to be useful to her. _Desperately_. Belle was stunning, dressed in what other men that usually visited the shop would have probably referred to as a provocative outfit. Her long legs were bare and she was wearing one of those mini skirts that barely reached the size of a napkin. The skirt was the color of her eyes and she had paired it with a white tank top that was pushing her breasts upwards, creating a mouth-watering picture.

Barney wanted to please her in any way he could.

“It isn’t a bad time at all,” he assured her, smoothing down his hair and pointing at the chair across from them. “I have the second seat now.”

He couldn’t help but let the satisfaction of that fact show in his voice.

Belle smiled joyfully at the pride he showed.

“Nice,” she said, continuing to smile while she took a seat. “It suits you much better. Big chair and all that.” She rubbed along the armrests in a motion that Barney could only describe as sensual and winked at him.

"I've been told that size isn't everything," he gave back, surprised by his own patter.

"That's true of course, but it helps with the pleasurable experience."

Belle's eyes were twinkling with mirth and she was biting her lip, the sight of which made Barney feel dizzy and warm, a thin layer of sweat forming on his forehead. All of a sudden, he was very aware that they were alone in the little dark shop and that her eyes were burning into his with an expression that he had never before seen a women use on him.

He looked away, choosing to concentrate on Belle's gorgeous hair instead. She seemed to have her natural color and for a moment, Barney had to force himself not to dwell on what that meant, what one could deduce from this discovery. Instead, he collected her hair in his hands and laid it out before him as he always did, carding his fingers through the waves as much to untangle them as for his own pleasure. He sprayed some moisture into her hair to make it more manageable and then, satisfied with his preparations, he began his work.

For a while, the sound of his scissors and the rustle of his jacket were the only sounds in the silent shop. Enjoying the work, Barney dove into a relaxed flow of practiced movement, the anxious voices in his head falling silent, his hands becoming steady and certain.

Then Belle interrupted the comfortable silence between them.

"This shop is beautiful," she said reverently, looking at the wooden panels before her and the chair she was sitting on. "It has a certain amount of old charm, talks of traditions, you know?"

Barney smiled, using his comb to trim another line of her hair.

"Yes," he said, "It is quite old... and it has always been a family business, so there are a lot of traditions around it."

"The shop?", Belle asked.

"Yes, and the job itself, too," Barney responded, not focusing on his words too much, "It's an old profession. Barber's utensils have been found as far back as the Bronze Age. We used to practice dentistry, too."

He grinned, proud to be able to teach her a quirky fact, and looked up to see Belle grinning, too, for entirely different reasons.

"Mine's older," she said.

"Excuse me?"

"My profession," Belle told him patiently. "It's older than yours. It's the oldest, in fact."

When Barney blushed furiously, she didn't have mercy on him but gave him a cheeky wink instead, his sudden rise in blood pressure making his hands start to tremble again, if only slightly. He made a noncommittal sound, trying not to let his embarrassment show.

"T-that's true," he mumbled and tried to leave it at that, but after a moment his curiosity got the better of him. "Is... is that very hard?", he asked

"What?" asked Belle. It was her turn to be confused.

"Your job."

"Hm, I don't know," Belle thought about it for a while, but answered just in time, before Barney could apologize and take back his question. "It depends on the customers, I guess. As it probably does with your job."

Barney nodded quickly, relieved that she had forgiven his conversational blunder, and promised himself not to say another word.

"Did you ever make use of it?" Belle asked.

The comb clattered to the floor, Barney's hand empty all of a sudden, his eyes wide and his mouth open. Quickly, he dropped to the floor and retrieved the comb, his blood now painfully loud in his ears. He was sure that Belle could hear it. When he got up again, he tried not to look like a shy teenager - and failed.

"No," he croaked, his voice unrecognizable. Embarrassed, he looked down, his hands trembling so noticeably that attempting to cut hair with them would have been a crime. He shook his head again, just for good measure.

"Why not?" Belle asked curiously, mercifully not commenting on his little break-down.

"I- I just," he thought about saying that he never needed it but decided that it would be too obvious a lie, and Belle would know. "It just never felt r-right to me."

Belle tilted her head to the side, her expression questioning, "Why? Do you think it's wrong to pay for sex?"

He blushed even more.

"Yes, I mean no, there's nothing wrong about it, it's just for me... it wouldn't be right," he stammered, taking up the scissors again, wanting nothing more than to cut himself out of this awkward situation.

Belle's expression didn't change. "Why?" she asked again.

Barney sighed, continuing his task, his hands moving more confidently than he felt. Finally, he decided for honesty and looked up again, meeting Belle's eyes in the mirror.

"I'd just be embarrassed," he murmured.

"Oh." Belle said, more soothingly now, "But about what, Barney?"

He shrugged helplessly, looking sad.

"Everything," he said finally, becoming very silent. He looked as if he had just realized something profound about himself and it didn't seem to be a good thing.

Suddenly feeling just as sad, Belle stilled at his behavior. She didn't want to upset him more than he had already upset himself. When he had finished her haircut in total silence and had lifted the plastic covering from her shoulders, turning her chair to make it easier for her to get up, Belle collected her courage once again.

"Thank you," she said as she got up, then cautiously laid a hand on his chest as if she thought he might try to run away if she startled him too much. Barney swallowed loudly, his heart beating a sonnet against the tips of her fingers. She was very close to him now and he couldn't help but think of the things she usually did when she was this close to men. 

When she felt like he was going to pull away from her, she placed a second hand on the nape of his neck, gently massaging him, the back of her hand brushing along his hair. She smiled. 

"I really like your hair, you know," Belle sighed, not stopping her ministration, "Especially the grey streaks on the sides. Don't let anyone tell you that it isn't beautiful."

Under the pressure of her fingers against his skin, Barney couldn't keep his eyes open. He felt unsteady on his feet, his knees turning into butter. Her intoxicating scent was all around him and he felt cradled and safe in it, heavy and full in his pants.

"It looks so neat and gives you such strong facial features," Belle whispered. "I like to imagine what you'd look like once I've run my fingers through it while you fuck me. I like to imagine the messy halo it would create if you were on top of me, dripping with sweat."

"Belle..." Barney sounded pained and hesitant, his instincts telling him that she must be mocking him, that no women would ever imagine, let alone want such a thing of him. When he tried to pull away, Belle hugged him, pressing her barely clad body against his front, his erection a very noticeable pressure between her thighs.

"Oh _fuck_ ," Belle moaned into his ear and Barney was lost. His hips bucked against her instinctively, his arms coming around her to pull her more firmly against him as she made another one of those heavenly sounds, this time directly into his ear.

"I know we said that size doesn't matter," she gasped into his ear, entirely breathless and almost laughing, "But that doesn't mean you couldn't have warned me, you know."

"I'm sorry," Barney groaned miserably, giving her another little push with his hips that had her head spinning, her underwear wet with a rush of fluid.

"I'm really not," Belle laughed wantonly, her hand on his neck guiding him towards her for a kiss.

The moment her wet little tongue slid into his mouth, Barney forgot all about his inhibitions. Belle felt him give out a low growl and suddenly, she was pressed against the back of a chair, his fingers roughly digging into the flesh of her ass. She moaned, their kiss an open-mouthed mess now, his teeth sinking into her bottom lip and pulling until she gasped, his enormous cock rocking against her thigh.

Then his phone rang.

Feeling as if someone had woken him up by throwing a bucket of ice water on his head, Barney stepped away from Belle's embrace with a startled noise, suddenly panicked, and began to fumble around in search of his phone. Once he'd found the damn thing, he answered it with something akin to dread on his face.

"Yes!" he positively screeched into the device, "I know Mum, I'm sorry, I'm really sorry, I'm on my way, I am!.... I forgot about it... yes, I know, I'm sorry, I'll be there in ten minutes, Mum, I promise!"

Hastily, he closed the phone and took Belle's arm, noticing that she looked confused and disappointed.

"I'm so sorry, Belle," he rambled, already leading her out of the shop. "I-I'd love to... you know... continue this but I've got to get some luggage to my mum at the bingo, she is going on a trip and I promised her to get her the luggage and now I'm late and-"

"It's okay, Barney!" Belle interrupted him reassuringly. They were standing outside the shop now and he was hurriedly locking the doors. When he turned towards her, Belle seized the opportunity and pulled him into a short hug again, whispering into his ear.

"We'll talk about it when things are a bit more quiet, yeah?" she told him, giving him a quick kiss on his cheek and running her hand over his hair one more time.

"Yeah," he answered, nodding earnestly, his cheek tingling from the kiss.

When he started his car and watched her walk away in his side mirror, her hips swinging seductively from side to side, he couldn't help but think that this was the best day of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided that Barney has a huge dick, okay? Because reasons.


	3. Third

_After the murders_

The shop was packed when Belle entered it, the cool air greeting her from the inside was a blessing on her heated skin. Summer days like this were rare in rainy Glasgow and Belle was making the most of it. She was wearing a simple, yellow skater dress that flared outwards around her hips, barely covering the essentials. The dress was backless and fastened around her neck, showing of the slender curves of her shoulders and the slight tan of her skin that she had worked hard for in the last few days.

Normally, this would have been the perfect time to make some money, but today, she had other thinks in mind.

As the bell above the door announced her arrival, all eyes were on her immediately, the room going quiet at the sound of her heels on the neat, checkered tiles. Although she had planned on a grand entrance, Belle involuntarily felt herself blush at the looks she was getting. Two of the three men who were currently getting haircuts had turned in their seats to give her an obviously appreciative look-over. The third man, who had apparently been mid-shave, was cursing into the sudden silence and pressed a hand to a shallow cut on his cheek, the young barber next to him looking appropriately sorry and sheepish. To her right, she could see a teenage boy fumbling for the little plastic spoon of ice cream he had dropped on the floor when she entered, all the while continuing to stare at her legs with his mouth wide open. Right in the middle of this stupefied mess stood Barney Thompson, looking like he ruled the world.

Contrary to the other men, his eyes didn’t stray from hers. He had turned towards her as she entered and there was a small smile playing around the corners of his mouth.

“Belle,” he said evenly, his voice strikingly clear and solid in the quiet room, “What a lovely surprise.”

Right then, the customer in the chair before him dog-whistled at her, and Barney didn’t waste any time before he smacked him on the back of the head with a towel he was holding, his eyes narrowed in fury. The towel made a wet slapping sound as it connected with the man’s scalp and he cried out, his ego clearly hurt.

“Hey man, you can’t just hit me, I’m a customer!”

“If you are going to be lewd,” Barney growled threateningly, serving him a glowering stare through the mirror, “You can walk right out of here and finish your haircut somewhere else.”

Belle looked him over, her eyes slowly moving from the tips of his shoes to the neat lines of his hair. _He looks different_ , a small voice whispered into her ear breathlessly, _broader and taller_. But his red uniform looked clean and impeccable as always, the red fabric of his jacket neatly framing a dark green shirt. His gaze was dark and certain as he stared the other man down. Belle felt her heart speed up in her chest, nervously biting her lip as she felt a sudden urge to rub her thighs together. Mentally shaking her head at herself, she controlled it, conscious of the countless eyes that were still focused on her.

“What can I do for you?” Barney asked her, having returned his attention to her. He stepped towards her as he spoke, his hands still grasping the towel that he’d used in her defence.

The difference about his uniform was that he was wearing it with confidence, Belle decided. He was standing up straight with his feet firmly placed a hip-width apart, and he seemed self-assured as he smiled at her, yes, almost cocky. She smiled back at him and enjoyed the feeling of warmth that flooded through her. Wordlessly, she crossed the distance between them and offered him a slip of paper. It was pink and neatly folded into a square, her perfume emitting a sweet smell of roses from where she had applied some of it onto the thick material.

“We need to discuss something,” she said, willing him to read it.

Barney raised his eyebrows in surprise, but caught himself and took the paper from her hand, his fingers softly touching hers in the process before he began to unfolded her message. _Take me to the back room_ , it said there in feminine handwriting, and he seemed to read it twice before he looked up at her again, surprise and nerves palpable in his eyes. He cleared his throat, her skin tingling where he had touched her.

As he turned towards his young employees, she saw his chest press against the red uniform from the inside, synthetic material tightening over his pectorals.

“Alright, Mick, you finish up this wanker here before you start on Mr. Harrison,” he told the young man behind him, “I’ll be in the back with Ms. French for a minute.”

The expression on his face looked positively regal as he gave orders in his own shop, the young barber hurrying to do as he had said, and Belle cocked her head, watching him with a newly surging wave of lust. Barney, with his grey hair, the commanding brogue of his voice and his heavy, solid body, reminded her of a silverback, unmatched among the ordinary males surrounding him.

She suppressed a giggle and mentally rolled her eyes at herself. _A_ _gorilla_ _, seriously_ _Belle_ _?_ It was high-time she did something about their mutual attraction or her raging hormones would truly drive her crazy.

Politely, Barney pointed an open hand towards the back of the shop. “Please, follow me:”

She did, her high heels tapping a rhythm on the tiles as she trailed after him, watching gelled, stiff ends of his hair brush his collar as he lead her towards the beady curtain. Once there, he stepped to the side and let her go first, holding the beads to the side like a gentleman. She ducked through and took in her surroundings, the space bare accept for a supply closet, a wooden table and two chairs.

Giddy with her own expectations, she decided to lean against the little table that stood against the far wall of the small room, watching him when he followed her through the curtain, beads caressing his form as they slid of his arms and shoulders.

Curiously, the first thing he did when he entered the room was to take his instruments from the breast pocket of his jacket, laying them on top of the supply closet and regarding them with a distrustful scowl. When he finally approached her, his steps were slow and hesitant, but then he was standing before her, the tips of his leather shoes almost touching her pumps. Belle smiled knowingly as he regarded her shoes with intense concentration, too shy to look her in the eyes.

“What is it that you wanted to d-discuss?” he asked, his hands nervously playing with the rim of his jacket. He had obviously lost his bravery now that they were alone, but it didn’t turn her off at all. On the contrary, seeing him this way reminded her of the Barney that had first cut her hair, the one that she had first kissed, and a warm glow of emotion bloomed in her heart.

She took his hand and heard him inhale shakily, gently stilling his anxious fingers with her own. They were were fleshy but dexterous, the muscles in them used to a line of work that required both stamina and agility. Thoughtfully, she turned his hand over, following the lines of his palm with a curious fingertip as she explained the reason for her visit.

“I just wanted to make sure that I paid you for the haircut you gave me two weeks ago,” she explained, listening to the uneven sound of his breathing. “Remember? I didn’t have a chance to pay you because you had to meet your mother?”

“Aye,” Barney nodded, intensely focused on their joined hands. When she pressed on a particularly sensitive spot of his palm, he reflexively closed his grip, lightly capturing her fingers. “But - But you don’t have to worry about that Belle, it was such a small thing, I - I don’t expect you to pay me.”

“Hm, but it’s important to me,” Belle protested, taking her hand from his grip to smooth out his already perfect tie. “I don’t like to leave good service unrewarded.”

“Oh, okay,” he agreed, unsettled by how close she was, by how the pressure of her fingers felt against his chest. His newfound confidence kept him from losing his cool, however, and he thought about their pricing, wrinkling his eyebrows in concentration. “It’s five pounds if you want to p-”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I should have been more clear,” she interrupted him, and licked her lips, blue eyes twinkling as his brown ones watched her warily. “I wasn’t thinking of paying you in money.”

“N-No?”, Barney stammered, as she felt his heart start to race beneath his shirt..

“Mmhm, no…” she took up his hand again, lifting it to place an innocent kiss on his knuckles, “I thought we could deal with this more practically.”

Barney was panting, frozen to the spot, his gaze fixed on the softness of her lips as her cool breath ghosted over the back of his hand. Belle winked at him, opening his hand in hers.

“From one old profession to another,” she whispered.

Before he could do or say anything, Belle slipped his index finger into her mouth, the pressure of her tongue wet and warm against his skin as she sucked him in entirely, her pink lips encircling him to the last knuckle. Barney whimpered helplessly, the sensation of her mouth on him and the dirty images it created in his head overwhelming his senses. He felt too hot beneath his jacket, the room suddenly spinning around him, and he was glad when she took him by the scruff of the neck to pull him against her, grounding him against her perfect body.

When she slowly slid her mouth off his finger, freeing it with a wet little popping sound that drove him crazy, he could only gasp against her, already desperate for whatever she had in store for him. The whole length of his body was pressed against hers, the top of his belly firmly pushing into the underside of her perfect breasts.

“Would you like to sleep with me, Barney?” she whispered in his ear, and he thought about the people in the next room, knowing that they would surely be able to hear them if they continued like this.

“Yes,” he gasped, more aroused than he’d ever been before. “ _Please,_ I don’t kn-”

“Shhh…” she silenced him and pulled his head towards her, meeting him in an innocent slide of wet lips. The kiss was blissful but coy and he whimpered as she bit his lower lip, doing to him what he had done to her during their last meeting. When she finally opened her mouth, Barney slipped his tongue into her with a desperate moan. The world around him lost its focus at the hot sensation of their wet tongues against each other, the taste of her driving him wild.

Unconsciously, he bucked against her and Belle gasped, the table beneath them lifting slightly off the ground before coming back down, wooden legs thumping against ceramic tiles.

“Easy there, big boy,” she chuckled against his mouth breathlessly, nipping along his jaw until she could whisper into his ear. “Or you’re going to break the table and then you’ll have to fuck me on the floor.”

“ _Please_ ,” Barney begged, not coherent enough to answer her teasing. His body was brimming with suppressed tension and arousal, his eyes closed against the onslaught of sensation. But he was still pressing into her, wordlessly begging her to help him find his release.

Belle playfully sucked on his neck, breathing in the smell of his sweat and aftershave there, and evoked another broken groan from him. She enjoyed playing with him like this but she wanted more, so she drew away from him, lightly shoving at his chest to give her some space. He made a noise of protest as she moved him and opened his eyes, confused at their sudden distance. Then, he noticed were her eyes had gone.

“My God,” Belle purred, contemplating the very sizable bulge that pressed against the gray fabric of his carefully ironed pants. “Where do you even hide that during the day?”

“What?”, Barney asked dazedly.

She ignored him, opting instead to reach out and stroke him through his trousers. He was still hardening beneath her fingers, but already her hand had just barely made it around his girth.

“Ah, God! Belle!” he shouted, and threw his head back, pressing a forearm over his eyes and gasping, overwhelmed. She licked along the length of his exposed throat, watching as his body jerked in reaction, his cock twitching in her hand. There was just no way that no one had heard that particular exclaim.

Trying not to overwhelm him, Belle kept her strokes slow and steady for a while, massaging him through the coarse fabric of his trousers until he was fully hard and let his arm drop from his eyes, slumping forward to bury his face in her neck.

“ _Please_ ,” he whimpered again, breathing like a race horse, and she lovingly pressed a kiss to his temple in an attempt to calm him.

“I bet you’re pretty dizzy, hm baby?” she asked him, smoothing her free hand over his damp hair without letting go of his cock.

He nodded brokenly, nuzzling her skin with his lips.

“It’s no wonder with all that blood leaving your head,” she teased him, “I don’t think you understand how big your dick is, Barney. Because I’m sort of an expert, but I have _never_ seen anything like this before.”

At her words, Barney buried his face even deeper into her neck, desperately rubbing his giant hardness against her hand. The poor man seemed to be caught between shame and arousal.

“I’m sorry,” he sobbed into her skin.

“Don’t be,” she soothed him, still running her hand through his hair, kneading his strained muscles when she reached the fluffy little hairs on the nape of his neck. “It’s a really good thing.”

“It- It is?”

“Oh yes, baby,” she pulled him back by his hair, forcing him to look up and listen, “There is a lot of men who’d give everything to have what you have.”

He watched her, too aroused by her administrations to be skeptical. When she unfastened his pants, and stuck her hand into the opening of his white briefs to free him from his confinement, he came to life, sucking in a deep breath.

“Belle,” he begged her, not knowing what for.

Her hand looked unusually small next to his member, proud and throbbing as she stroked along the length of it. The tip of him bobbed with her movement, his skin there lighter than at his base. Belle caressed one of the thick vein beneath his skin as she pumped him, following it with her thumb. She collected the precum at his tip with a skillful twist of her wrist, spreading it along the silky hardness of his cock. It wasn’t nearly enough fluid to make her strokes glide on his skin, so Belle licked her hands before trying again.

“God, that’s good,” Barney groaned, and grabbed her hips to steady himself, his eyes blown wide as he watched her hands pump his flesh.

“Do you want to see how wet you make me, Barney?” she asked, eager to have him inside her and he nodded without thinking.

“Help me pull up my dress,” she instructed him, taking his hands from her hips and placing them at the rim of her yellow summer dress. She lifted her bottom to let him push the dress over her hips, yellow fabric bunching around her waist. She heard him hum appreciatively as he saw her matching panties, surprised when he immediately pressed his fingers against her, rubbing the damp material. She moaned, the sensation of his strong hand feeling incredible as he rubbed the lace against her heated flesh. Encouraged by the sounds she was making, he pulled her panties to the side, pressing his fingers directly against her wet cunt.

“It’s so wet,” he growled, and before she could say anything he had roughly gripped her bare knees, pushing them apart to open up her body. Instantly, his fingers were back on her wetness, probing her with thick, persistent fingers.

“Ah” she whimpered, surprised at his sudden dominance, the look of him above her making her head spin. “I want you inside me, Barney.”

Barney groaned, too far gone to talk, but he looked insecure. Belle thought she knew why. She grasped the slick hand fumbling at her core and found his index finger, guiding it inside her. She gasped and rocked her hips into their hands, fucking herself on the finger inside her. Soon, Barney was pushing it in and out of her, visibly enjoying how it made her twitch.

“This is where you push into me, alright baby? It’s as easy as that, okay?”, Belle gasped, trying to stay focused on helping him, but failing as he added his thumb to gently rub at her clit. “Oh, God, Barney, _please_.”

It was her time to beg as he felt him push on her shoulders, coaxing her to lie back on the table, wood hard and cool against the skin of her back. He pulled her towards him and pushed her knees apart even wider, gripping his base with shaking hands as he lined himself up with her opening.

The spongy head of his cock parted her folds, distractingly rubbing against her clit as Barney positioned himself. She moaned when he finally began to push his way into her, her warm passage impossibly snug against his rod.

“God,” she whimpered as he applied more pressure, trying to keep breathing normally. “Fuck, how are you so huge?”

He wasn’t listening to her, his hips bucking into her thighs as a firm shove quickly buried him further into her tight cavity, and Belle saw stars, the sudden stretch painful.

“Ugh,” she grunted, caught between arousal and tension, and pressed her eyes shut, grabbing his forearm. “Slowly, big boy.”

He stilled at her words, looking pained with half of him already inside her, his chest expanding and contracting in big gulps of breath. Belle waited until she had adjusted to his girth, then grasped the lapels of his jacket and pulled, not letting go until he was on top of her, his fully clothed body roughly pressing into hers.

“Ah, fuck, Belle”, he said, resting his forehead on hers, his skin glistening with perspiration. He was sweating profusely now, his slicked-back hair wet against his scalp. “I don’t know what I’m doing, sweetheart”

“You’re doing great,” she reassured him, kissing him, slow and sensual. As their tongues met, she felt herself relax and Barney’s weight made him sink further and further into her, until finally she could feel his bollocks press against her perineum. For a moment, they just panted into each others mouths, trying to control their heartbeats. Barney’s graying hair was tangled around her fingers, his brows drawn together in concentration over dark, hooded eyes as his heavy body pressed her into the table. The wood creaked beneath his weight, and it made Belle painfully aware of how much stronger than her he was. The thought made her groan and bite into his clothed shoulder, her hips pressing upwards, pushing him even deeper inside her, legs wrapping around his waist without conscious thought. She could feel the head of his cock press against her cervix, the sensation incredibly erotic, just the right mix between pleasure and pain.

He began to move and she lifted her knees as he thrust into her, stretching her, first with slow and shallow jolts of his hips, then deeper and faster. She cried as he hit the end of her tunnel over and over, the absolute bliss of being impaled on him making her toes curl. The other people in the shop had all but disappeared to them, but even if Belle would have wanted to she couldn’t have held back her ecstatic moans, Barney grunting above her with every one of his fevered stabs. He was working himself into a rhythm, his soggy balls slapping her ass with every shove of his hips.

“Oh Barney, you’re killing me!” she gasped, digging her nails into his neck.

For some reason, her words seemed to make him lose his mind. He roared, gripped her hips with strong hands and yanked them towards him, simultaneously ramming her down into the table. With his fingers digging into her flesh, he started to fuck her in earnest, hard and demanding, so that Belle felt as if she was being drilled by a power tool. She gritted her teeth and whimpered, the sensation of him fucking her too overwhelming to vocalize. Her pulse quickened, tension building between her legs until she felt like she would break in two and then… the world exploded around her, and she felt herself floating above her rocking limbs as bright lights burst in her head. Her muscles cramped up, her orgasm pulsating through her body. When her cunt gripped Barney’s cock in rhythmic spasms, milking him with every squeeze of her walls, she watched as he threw his head back, the tendons of his neck straining.

“Fuck!” he screamed, looking wild and crazed, his hair disheveled and dripping with sweat. “FUCK!”

He pushed himself inside her with one last powerful shove, his balls pressed against her ass, stilling as he flooded her with his warm cum.

“Argh,” he cried, and froze, his muscles twitching artlessly.

For a while they stayed like that, trying to regain their bearings. Occasional aftershocks were running through his body and warm drops of sweat occasionally fell from his chin onto her chest. In the next room, the men had gone deathly silent, and Belle hoped that they had once and for all understood that Barney Thomson was twice the man they were, her heart filled to the brim with affection for him as she watched him float in the afterglow of their lust. When he opened his eyes, she smiled at him and he smiled back, suddenly shy, supporting her lower back as she sat back up on the table. He still looked utterly dazed, so she cradled a gentle palm against the side of his face, caressing him out of his stupor. Then, she directed his gaze to where they were joined.

“Watch,” she said, and carefully laid a hand around his softening base, pulling him out of her.

The motion produced a wet squelching sound and a heavy load of cum ran out of her as soon as the fat tip of his cock left her pussy, the white fluid trickling out of her and onto the floor. Barney groaned helplessly. Careful not to hurt his oversensitive member, she helped him put himself back into his boxers and and zipped him up, making sure that his shirt was tucked neatly into his pants. When she was done, she fixed her own clothing, but decided against her drenched panties which now felt too raw against her hypersensitive skin. She slid them down her legs and slipping the ruined lace into the breast pocket of his jacket instead, giving him a cheeky winked.

“A souvenir on the house.”

Barney hadn’t taken his eyes off of her, looking at her as if she was a Goddess that had come to life before him. As if she’d brought him to life.

“This was the first time,” he whispered under his breath, the confession so quiet that it was barely audible, his hand softly caressing her bare knee. Belle smiled and gave him a lazy kiss that tasted both salty and sweet.

“And already you were perfect,” she told him proudly, sliding off the table. Her knees felt weak and she winced as her thighs rubbed against each other. She knew that she would be sore tomorrow, a reminder of him inside her, and the thought of it made new warmth pool at her core. “I’m looking forward to doing this again, if you’d like. Maybe in a bed next time.”

Barney nodded but wrinkled his brow. “I don’t think you should cut your hair that often,” he said, his voice professional, “It’s healthy as it is.”

“Mhm… I hear Barney Thomson’s barbershop offers shaving, too.”

He inhaled sharply, his eyes darkening.

“Aye, we do,” he said, a boyish grin spreading on his face.

“Well, then I certainly look forward to doing business with you in the future, Mr. Thomson,” she teased him, giving him a last, open mouthed kiss. The bastard bit her lip, growling as she giggled.

“And I with you, Belle,” he agreed, clearly looking like a man who’d just had the shag of a lifetime.

As Belle stepped through the curtain of beads that divided the shop from the back room, nobody so much as pretended that they were working. The six men in the shop looked utterly shell shocked as they watched her cross the floor, followed by a very satisfied and thoroughly fucked barbershop owner. He opened the door for her, watching her go as he smirked, on top of the world.

 


End file.
